


Unplanned

by tatterwitch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxiety, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Mild Language, Panic Attacks, Pregnancy, Pregnant!Reader, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 16:01:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3656436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatterwitch/pseuds/tatterwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Your knees buckled, causing you to fall against the counter. <br/>This was happening. This was real. Oh, God, this was real.<br/>Pregnant. You were pregnant. With Dean's baby. God, it'd just been the one time without a condom! One time! Dean...<br/>You pressed your palms over your eyes hard.<br/>Shit, what were you going to do? You felt like you were going to be sick again. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unplanned

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this one rattling around my brain for eons. It's one of those what-if-situations that literally sends me into a anxiety/panicky tailspin. And I imagined that it would be for a hunter, too. It's a dangerous life to live. And really, I just wanted to write this one. A lot. Anyway. I hope you all enjoy!

This couldn't be happening.

It just _couldn't_.

Your heart pounded in your chest, flying nearly as fast as a hummingbird's wings. A cold sweat beaded on your brow as you paced around the little room.

The tile was cool beneath your bare feet, sticking slightly to your sweaty skin. Your hands fluttered from your hair, over your mouth, to your roiling stomach and back again. Your breath stuttered in and out of your lungs.

This just couldn't be happening. It'd just been the one time...

You were just stressed, that was all. You'd just caught a bug, that was all. It wasn't this. It couldn't be.

The timer on your cellphone chirped loudly, making you jump. You were abruptly grateful that the bunker was empty.

Sam and Dean had left to run some errands in town. Errands that, admittedly, you'd sent them on just for this reason. Privacy was imperative.

The soles of your feet stuck to the tiles as you heel-toed your way over to the counter beside the sink. The slender stick of white plastic laid there on the pale surface. You took a deep breath, rubbing your shaking hands over your thighs.

It was no big deal. You were just overreacting, that was all. You'd been careful for the most part. It was going to be fine. The plastic wand trembled in your hands as you flipped it up to the light.

Your heart stopped.

You twisted the stick this way and that, but no matter the angle, the results remained unchanging. Two tiny pink lines that denoted a positive.

It could just have been faulty...If not for the fact that it was the third test you'd taken that day.

Your knees buckled, causing you to fall against the counter. This was happening. This was real.

Oh, God, this was real.

Pregnant. You were _pregnant_. With Dean's baby.

God, it'd just been the one time without a condom! One time! Dean...

You pressed your palms over your eyes hard. Shit, what were you going to do? You felt like you were going to be sick again.

You were a hunter. You couldn't promise yourself safety, let alone a baby's. _A baby_. You were pregnant. The word rattled around your skull like a death knell. You couldn't take care of a baby. You couldn't even take care of yourself.

But at the thought of getting rid of it, of visiting the clinic, you were on your knees and pitching over the toilet.

Tears streaked down your cheeks as you whimpered into the porcelain bowl.A loud ringing noise sounded in our ears as our head spun 'round and 'round. Your fingers clenched and unclenched at your sides.

You lost track of how much time had passed.

The tiles dug into your knees, edges biting into the bare skin of your shins. You shook with fine tremors, hands refusing to remain still.

The doors to the bunker slammed loudly. Voices called out; Sam's gentle baritone and Dean's gruff bass.

You jumped to your feet and scrubbed a wetted washcloth over your face and hands. As quickly as possible, you tidied the bathroom. That task only lasted so long. So soon, there was nothing left to do.

There was a knock at the door.

Hastily, you shoved the pregnancy tests into the trash can by the door. You pushed your hair back and propped open the door.

Sam gave you a concerned smile.

"Hey, Y/N. Brought you back some tylenol and soup. Are you feeling any better?"

It took you a few tries to get your voice to work. In that time, Sam's concern dipped into genuine worry as he spotted the tear-streaks on your cheeks and the hectic red spots beneath them.

"Y/N, are you okay, did something-"

You made the corners of your lips move up in a smile.

"Fine, Sam. I'm fine. Just a little stomach bug is all."

Stomach bug, you wished. Pregnant, pregnant, pregnant. The word was everywhere inside your brain. You coudn't tell Dean, you realized. He didn't need this. This was your problem. Dean already had too much on his plate, he didn't need to worry about you or...or the baby.

You couldn't...wouldn't give it up, you realized. But you also couldn't stay with the Winchesters any longer. You needed to get out. And quick. Before they figured anything out.

Sam's eyes appraised you steadily. Your stomach churned, cold sweat pricking down your spine. It took everything you had to hold his gaze.

"All right, okay. Listen, you should get some rest, okay? You look like you could use it."

Sam gave you another small smile.

"Me and Dean will take care of the stuff, okay?"

"Thanks, Sam. I could-I could use a nap."

You listened to the sound of Sam's footsteps fading down the hallway.

You made your way to your room and locked the door behind yourself. The last thing you needed was for one of them to walk in on you now.

Your knit shorts and tank-top were exchanged for a pair of jeans and a baggy sweatshirt. Boots were slipped on over thick socks.

With shaking hands, you packed your duffel with your things. You didn't really have much; just clothes and weapons and the couple pictures on your desk. The cheap wooden frames were carefully wrapped in t-shirts before getting stuffed into the bag, too. On a scrap of old stationary, you penned a quick note and tucked it into your pocket.

You set everything to rights and crawled beneath the blankets of your bed for the last time.

There was no way in hell you'd be able to leave while the boys were up and about. Sure, you could've spun a tale about a hunt or something...But one of them would insist on coming with you, if not both of them. Added to the fact that you had been dog-sick for the past week, there really was no way you were going to be released easy.

Hours passed. Beneath the blankets that smelled like detergent and still held traces of Dean's scent, you waited. Footsteps wandered up and down the hall. Water ran in the bathroom and kitchen. Their voices carried quietly from the library and living room. The tv was turned on for a while.

Your heart thundered in your chest like a stampede of wild horses when everything quieted down.

After another hour of silence had ticked by, you flipped the covers back and retrieved the note from your back pocket. The folded-up paper stood out against the dark wood of the desk's surface.

With your duffel slung over your shoulder, you crept down the halls. Everything in you urged that you run. Run like never before with feet pounding against the floor until you reached a safe place far, far away. Biting down on the inside of your cheek, you kept quiet and finally made it to the garage.

Keys hung from a rack near the door. They chimed softly when you curled your fingers around them. Your old, rusted truck sat parked next to the Impala. A sharp stab of...something made you smother a sob.

The truck's door creaked beneath your hand. The duffel bag thudded against the floorboards in front of the passenger seat. The key slid into the ignition with only the tiniest hitch. The engine snarled to life with a wheezing growl. You took a shaky breath and adjusted the mirrors as you drew the seatbelt across your chest.

Something flickered in the corner of your gaze.

"Hey!" Dean's voice boomed in the silence, making you jump violently.

 _Run, run, run_ , your mind screamed.

Your fingers curled around the wheel just as Dean reached the passenger's side door. it was wrenched open in a quick motion and a squeal of protest. The keys were yanked from the ignition.

Pure, undiluted panic had spots darkening your vision. Some baser instinct took over.

Before you knew what was happening, you were sprinting for the garage's tunnel. Your duffel bounced on your back. Boots smacked against the concrete. Breath sawed in and out of your lungs.

It was a lost cause, though.

Strong hands banded around your upper arms and jerked you against a broad chest. You fought blindly. Dimly, you could hear Dean's voice telling you to calm down, that he wasn't going to hurt you.

And then you crying, body shaking wildly. Great, ugly sobs that made it even harder to breathe than it already was.

"Y/N, baby-"

There it was. That word. Did he know? He couldn't. You'd made sure you hadn't left anything. You sucked in a trembling breath and glanced up at him.

Those green eyes were dark, a million emotions swimming behind them. Something white and small protruded from the front pocket of his jeans. Your blood ran cold. One of the pregnancy tests. A fresh flood of tears dammed up in your eyes.

"D-Dean, I'm so sorry." Your voice was ragged, quiet in the silence of the bunker.

He seemed to stumble for words, his throat working as he took a step back. You felt colder, abruptly, without his touch.

"Why-" His voice broke. "Why didn't you just tell me? You were just gonna leave without saying anything?"

"I left a note in my room," You whispered, blinking quickly. "I can't- I never wanted this. I'm not ready. And you...You have too much already. You didn't need to worry about any of it. I can go. I can still go. I'm sorry. So sorry-"

"No." Dean's voice cracked across the short distance.

You swallowed, head ducking.

"You're not leaving. You're not doing this thing alone. I got you into this mess and I'm not leavin' you alone in in." His voice was gruff and low.

"Dean, please. Don't. You don't need me. Or this. It's too much. I can't ask-I won't ask-"

In one long stride, heavy arms wrapped around your shoulders. Your cheek pressed against his chest. He was shaking.

"Y/N, I'm not lettin' you do this alone. We'll figure it all out. Just, please. Don't-Don't go."

You stood stiffly, lingering panic still thrumming in your veins. Then, after a minute, you let yourself relax into his embrace.

Dean's palm stroked over your hair softly.

"Shh, shh. We- we'll figure it out, okay, baby? We'll figure it out."


End file.
